


Exposed

by ORiley42



Series: Smallville Episodes: the Clex Edition [3]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Exposed, First Kiss, Fix-It of Sorts, Flirting, M/M, S5:E06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:37:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5266406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ORiley42/pseuds/ORiley42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Booty shorts and honesty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exposed

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I really hate the plot trope (that seems especially prevalent in sci-fi-ish shows) where the ~strong female character~ is forced to pretend to be a stripper to sneak into a place (Smallville, Dark Angel, X-Men First Class….the list is painfully long), but HEY. Wouldn’t it be a lot more fun if, say, Clark was the one that had to pretend to be a stripper for plot reasons? Yes, that’s what I thought too.  
> Bit of plot set-up: so, in this version, Clark and Lana aren’t dating because reasons… sorry, Lana. And Clark did accuse Lex of trying to frame his political opponent/Clark’s dad’s friend for murder, but he didn’t take his help for admission to the strip joint to investigate said murder, but rather went along with Lois and Chloe on their mission, and so had to help out with the whole sneak-in-somehow thing…

No, no, no this wasn’t happening.

Nope.

NOPE.

_Nope_.

This was just not happening, and it was most definitely, 100%, without a single doubt, _not_ Lex Luthor’s distinctive profile that he had just spotted, catching the gleam of the stage lights. Because, it was simply not possible for this night, the worst and easily most surreal night of Clark’s life (and he was saying this with the full knowledge that he had personally encountered super-powered dogs and that one of his oldest friends had been a vampire just last week) to get any worse or weirder.

Things had almost been – well, not _normal_ between him and Lex, because who the hell knew what “normal” had ever been for their relationship. But, things had been getting better, closer to how they had been before everything fell apart. Like if Clark just squinted and tilted his head a bit, it was the old Lex that he’d known and cared for. Maybe. Well, maybe if he _closed_ his eyes, he could imagine it, anyway.

God, but did he want to close his eyes right now. He wanted to close his eyes, and when he opened them again, he wanted to be back home in his loft, waking up from a very, very, very strange dream that he would never have to think about or speak about again.

Unfortunately the jillion-watt flash lights and pounding base beat threatening to shatter even his own, indestructible eardrums, were not going to allow him to forget where he was.

Or what he was wearing.

Which was, when all added together, quite close to the vicinity of, perhaps even kitty-corner to…nothing.

Because spangly red-white-and-blue booty shorts just didn’t cut it, in his book. Or anyone’s book, he imagined. There had been a sort of tear-away suit jacket, earlier, before Clark had torn it off during his…routine. Oh _god_ his _routine._ What had he just _done_ how had he let Chloe and Lois convince him to do this oh _god_. What had he just done in front of a crowd and God and Lex actual freakin’ Luthor.

He’d wanted to kill Lois before, but _now_ … He flashed back on the…things…he’d done while the music had played and he’d convinced himself to listen to Chloe’s advice (oh, she was on his hit list too) to just “go with the flow, take one for the team, don’t blow our cover!” Their damned _cover_ might be intact, but Clark’s dignity was most certainly, irrevocably pummeled into dust. Clark would pummel _them_ into dust if he ever got his hands on their stupid, manipulating, giggly little –

“Aaaaand can we have another round of applause for The Farmboy!” The alarming cacophony of clapping shocked Clark into movement, reminding him he should probably exit the stage at this point. Right now. Immediately.

“Fresh off the bus from Kansas, and he gave us a hell of show, am I right folks?” The announcer was right, the folks agreed, their clapping increasing as Clark mentally begged the disembodied voice to stop talking please stop talking before he said something else that would make it utterly impossible for Clark to ever look Lex in the eyes ag –

“Think he got those buns of steel baling hay? I know I’d love an answer to that. Maybe we can get him to tell us tomorrow night. Or better yet…. _show us_!”

Hoots and hollers sounded from all corners of the club as Clark wondered if “smashed a hole into the ground and then dug his way to China where no one could even understand the words ‘buns of steel’” would count as needlessly exposing his abilities. His dad would almost certainly say yes.

But, then, it was sort of his dad’s fault that he was here in the first place, what with him insisting on his buddy’s innocence in the dead-stripper matter and thus inspiring Clark’s investigative impulse, so really, he didn’t deserve a say in this, even if he was currently just the personification of Clark’s voice of reason.

Ok. Focus, Clark. He struggled to orient himself in the crushing smell of sweat and bodies, the music’s deafening pitch like a rhythmic stabbing to his brain. Where was he headed? Backstage. That made sense. Backstage was safe.

“Hey, where do you think you’re goin’?” a deep voice echoed from somewhere in the shadows to the right of Clark’s head.

“Huh? What? I’m going…” Clark motioned vaguely towards the blessed sanctuary that lay behind the black curtain that the huge, tattooed, and entirely un-genial bodyguard who had just materialized out of the shadows moved to block.

“Nuh-uh newbie, you go out and mingle. That’s part of the deal. Non-negotiable.”

Ha, non-negotiable, Clark was pretty sure the guy would change his mind when Clark’s fist connected with his –

Ugh. Chloe’s voice suddenly intruded on his consciousness again, along with a floaty image of the poor murdered young woman he’d been sent here to investigate. “This isn’t just about _you_ Clark, and your delicate sensibilities – someone’s been killed, and your ass is our ticket in! Quite literally!”

Fine, dammit, he wouldn’t blow their cover. He’d go out and… _mingle_. For the dead girl.

Clark did a one-eighty with a sigh, wondering how long he’d have to wander around the terrifying, unknown mass of expensive alcohol and mysterious people before he could make his escape.

“Aaaaand let’s welcome Fantasia to the stage! Now, this girl’s got an act you don’t want to miss…”

Clark took a deep breath as stepped cautiously into the crowd of darkened tables, shapeless voices and silent forms coming almost into focus before fading away, faces and bodies whispering and shouting and breathing, hands reaching and mouths moving.

Snippets of words Clark couldn’t help but pick up, but didn’t know how to make sense out of assaulted his ears..

“the merger’s gonna go through whether –”

“– do you see the tits on this girl, my god –”

“– he’s an asshole that’s why –”

“– course I love ya honey –”

“– I asked for this without olives, you total –”

“– and then she said –”

“– c’mere, baby.”

Clark almost didn’t notice that those words were directed at him, except that the glint of a gold tooth peeking out of a crooked smile caught his eye.

“Uh…” he muttered vaguely, realizing he had no clue what “mingling” entailed, but pretty sure that if it was anything like what this guy’s leering grin promised, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.

“C’mon over here,” the man’s voice slurred, a bony, hairy hand shooting out of nowhere to grab at Clark’s wrist. As his features swam into focus, it was clear that the hand belonged to a rather old, and incredibly drunk man with a sharply cut suit and a receding hairline.

“How’s about you just sit your pretty lil’ ass down here n’ let ol’ Georgie take care of ya, huh?”

“Uh, sorry, Mister…uh….George…” Clark tried to slip his wrist from the man’s hand without breaking said hand, but to no avail. Clark couldn’t figure out where he’d seen the man’s face before. When he remembered where, his faith in democracy got knocked down a few pegs, and he began to wonder how far-fetched the idea of his favorite Uncle Jack frequenting this place really was.

 “Please, it’s just _George_ to you, gorgeous.”

“Uh, sorry _George_ , it’s just….I’ve uh…I…” Clark began to seriously weigh the costs and benefits of actually breaking George’s fingers in order to make his escape.

“You ain’t got nothing more important to do tonight, I can make sure of that,” George declared, his wrinkled hand making a sudden dive to try and wriggle around Clark’s waist, pulling him in close enough that Clark was choked with whiskey fumes, and could actually hear the man’s lungs wheezing. Smoker, Clark noted somewhat wildly in the back of his mind, and oh no. No way, no _way_ did this guy have the nerve to let his hand start slipping down Clark’s back…

No, no, no way, José, Clark was _out_ of here, secrecy and Chloe’s cover be damned.

 “Excuse me, sir,” a waiter interrupted smoothly, leaning between the leering man and Clark’s cringing figure just as Clark was about to bolt, “but the gentleman over there has requested this dancer’s company.” The words were barely out of the waiter’s mouth before Clark was tearing himself away from George’s cloying grip with only-just-human speed.

“Hey, I got ‘im first!” the now rather annoyed, and clearly _stunningly_ drunk, man argued, making another, half-hearted grab for Clark’s arm.

Clark dodged his grasping hand easily, his breath catching in his chest as the only logical identity of his rescuer occurred to him –

“I’m sorry sir, but this gentleman is a platinum member, and so earns a priority in the dancer’s schedule. We’re quite sorry.”

Oh, a _platinum_ member. Clark couldn’t decide if he wanted to roll his eyes or collapse with relief as he was led neatly away towards a heavily shadowed table, taking up a position of quiet power in the center of the room.

Probably a _platinum_ seating arrangement, Clark scoffed derisively in his head, before his head reminded him that he was the one whose butt was currently covered in more glitter than you could find in a dozen kindergarten art rooms, and he was in no position to judge _anyone_ for _anything_.

Lex was smirking, of course, as the waiter slid Clark neatly around a bevy of excited young women, depositing him neatly next to Lex’s table before departing silently.

Clark tried desperately not to shuffle awkwardly as Lex raked his eyes obviously over Clark’s outfit, or rather, lack thereof.

“You know, Clark, when Hamlet was telling Horatio about those ‘stranger things in Heaven and Earth’…I think he may have been talking about _this_ ,” Lex gestured vaguely with one elegant hand towards the, admittedly quite unlikely, scene before him.

Clark huffed, before muttering “and _I_ think, Lex, that you’re still a pretentious jackass.” Clark winced at his rather weak retort, but Lex laughed. Not the old, honest laughter that seemed to bubble up and take Lex by surprise, and that made Clark beam with pride at having elicited – but still, he laughed, and despite the circumstances, the knot in Clark’s chest loosened slightly at the sound.

“I’ve never claimed to be anything _but_ a pretentious jackass. And I’ve been neglecting my manners! Please, have a seat.”

Lex patted his lap.

Clark wondered if the sparkly shorts currently giving him the mother of all wedgies also came with the side effect of psychotic delusions. It would certainly explain a lot. And it was a far more pleasing alternative to the idea that this _was_ reality.

“You know,” Clark began archly, “even if I had recently gotten hit over the head with a heavy object and would consider what you seem to be suggesting…I would crush you.”

“Alright, your choice,” Lex held up his hands in mock surrender, sliding over to give Clark a seat, which Clark nearly dove into, eager to feel even slightly less vulnerable. “But I wouldn’t get too far if I were you…” Lex’s hand snaked out to slip easily around Clark’s (painfully bare) waist, scooching him closer until he was pressed up tight against Lex’s side. Lex leaned in close, his lips nearly brushing against Clark’s ear as he murmured “…wouldn’t want the congressman to get grabby again.”

Clark shivered, partly still on edge from the whole unpleasant incident, and partly because the silken fabric of Lex’s shirt actually felt really nice against his skin. “Uh, he has already been _plenty_ grabby, tonight. I don’t think he could get much grabbier.”

“I’m afraid he could get a great deal grabbier, Clark,” Lex corrected him sharply, his tone turning suddenly serious as he relinquished his hold on Clark, giving him some space. “I’m just glad I could get you away before anything more serious happened.”

“Please,” Clark waved his hand airily, putting on false airs of comfort and ease, “I had that under control.”

“Really.”

“Yeah. _Totally_ had a plan of escape.”

Clark felt increasingly at ease as Lex’s usual smirk slid back into place. “What were you going to do, exactly?”

“You know. Stuff. _Things_.” Clark inclined his head towards Lex, nodding wisely, but unable to keep his lips from twitching. Lex’s face mirrored his own, and they simultaneously broke into something embarrassingly close to giggles.

“OK, well, next time you look like you’re about to be molested by an elected official, I will take care not to rescue you.”

“Ah, I didn’t mind. It’s good for you to feel like you’re contributing.”

“Right, thanks.” Lex laughed some more, and Clark smiled, perhaps his first real smile of the night, glad to see Lex relax back into Clark’s personal space, the formal rigidity of his posture fading into something more comfortable, more intimate.

“So,” Lex reached for his drink, giving Clark the side-eye, “to address the obvious. I _would_ say ‘do I want to know how this happened?’ Except that I know, without a doubt, that I really, really _do_ want to know _exactly_ how this happened.”

“Chloe. Lois.”

“Ah.”

“Something about equal opportunity objectification and then a bit of giggling and then. Well. It’s a haze of spangles and mortification after that.”

“Mmm. Well, if you don’t remember what happened, I’m sure I could enlighten you. I think I’ll remember this night forever, every move, in extremely vivid detail –”

“Please stop talking!” Clark almost shouted.

Lex’s mouth snapped shut, but he didn’t bother to hide his smirk.

“What are you even _doing_ here?” Clark sighed.

Lex delicately raised an eyebrow, making a show of miming zipping his lips shut.

“You can talk to tell me what the _hell_ you’re doing here,” Clark poked at Lex’s chest to emphasize each of his words.

“Ooh, Clark Kent swearing. I must have hit a nerve. Feeling a bit _exposed_ , are we?”

“OK, go back to not talking.”

“It’s simple. I came here to make sure you weren’t getting yourself into any trouble…”

“Well, as you can see, I _did_ get myself into trouble, so: situation normal. You can leave now.”

“Well, Clark, it is true that you seem to have an undue tendency to attract trouble, but I don’t think it was _just_ trouble that you were attracting tonight.”

Clark groaned, slumping over the table to bury his face in his hands. “God, Lex, do you think you could stop with the innuendo for, like, five seconds?”

“Oh, trust me, I am holding back a veritable tsunami of inappropriate remarks right now. It’s one of the greatest struggles of my life not to riff off your painfully patriotic attire, so reminiscent of your usual proclivity for primary colors, and yet so very, very distinct from your traditional impenetrable layers of denim and flannel.  The effort is Herculean, honestly.”

“Yes,” Clark grumbled through his fingers, “I can tell how very much you’re straining yourself on my behalf. Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

“You’re most welcome.”

Clark peeked over his arm to watch Lex sip daintily from his glass.

“So. Lex. You know why I’m here. I know why you’re here. What do we do now?”

“Well, you could go on about your clumsy investigating with the spunky reporter girls...or you could let me take you home.”

Clark’s stomach swooped, and he told himself that it wasn’t because of the probably accidental entendre of Lex’s last words. It was just…nerves or something.

“Yeah, I mean, we’re only trying to solve a _murder_ here,” Clark loaded his words with as much righteousness as was possible when one had the American flag plastered in sparkles on one’s behind. “No big deal.”

“Oh, that,” Lex wiggled his fingers like he was batting away a fly rather than the idea of an innocent girl’s death. “Well, since you mentioned the murder in passing – by which I mean you accused me of perpetrating it and then framing your dear family friend for my crime – I thought I’d look into it. If someone was out smearing my opponent, then I might be next.”

“I…I didn’t think you’d _killed_ anyone, Lex. I wouldn’t think that.”

“Well, glad to know you only think I’d only plant false evidence of a homicide in order to incriminate a political opponent, not actually carry out the murder myself.”

“Lex, I….” Clark wanted to say he was sorry, but was he? Was it really so unreasonable to think that Lex would go to such lengths?

“Anyway. I had my people look into it. A couple of private detectives and a well-placed phone call to the Metropolis PD later, we had our criminal.”

“What?!” Clark shot up from the table, his seat making an ominous crack at the sudden, violent movement.

“Yes, the man was one Mr. Lyons. He couldn’t actually be arrested for his crimes – of which there was more than one, the evil, sadistic son of a bitch – because of his father’s status as a diplomat. He was European, going back home, and then there was a bit of an incident with a helicopter…” Lex trailed off at the thoroughly stunned expression on Clark’s face.

“You…he… _what_?” Clark spluttered, his brain feeling unable to process the information it was being given.

“We couldn’t get him _here_ , on legal grounds, but I have a feeling that Interpol will have some questions once he returns to the continent. So, you don’t have to worry,” Lex patted Clark’s arm jovially, “he won’t be hurting anyone else.”

Clark squeezed his eyes shut, managing to grit out, “Wha…what _time_ , when did this all happen?”

“Oh, about an hour or two ago,” Lex answered casually.

“So….” As horror dawned on Clark’s face, a smirk of equal magnitude rose on Lex’s. “All of this. This…. _this_!” Clark waved frantically at his glittery shorts, at the stage, towards the lecherous George. “It was all for nothing?!”

“Well, that depends on your definition of nothing. I think it rather did something for me.” Lex almost murmured his words, pulling out his most lascivious grin, one that Clark had never seen before, and certainly not up this close… Maybe that was why Clark was feeling so hot under the collar, or _would_ be if he HAD one.

“I, uh, um…” Was the most intelligent response Clark could muster up.

“If you’d come to me for help Clark, I would’ve given it to you,” Lex’s tone and expression shifted unexpectedly suddenly into something Clark thought he recognized as sincerity. “I’m still trying to prove I can be a good friend.” Lex’s hand had somehow found its way to Clark’s, and it appeared to be sort of _holding_ his, and was the room actually spinning or was it just the shock of…of everything?

“I know I haven’t been a good friend, I’ve been…the _opposite_. But I will change. I will, I promise. That’s part of what this whole political campaign’s about for me, to _change_. To prove to the world, to my father, to me, to _you_ ….that I _can_ change, that I can be something better. I will try to be a good friend, Clark. I’ll die trying.”

Clark tried valiantly to think through the glittery fog that had descended on his brain, but the only thought that remained coherent was: “Uh, Lex…are you saying you’re running for office…to impress me?”

“Well, I’m also trying to overcome a lifetime of daddy issues and my demolished self-esteem, but yeah, you factor in there too.”

“Oh.” Wow, you’re really stunning the man with all your pithy replies tonight, aren’t you, Clark internally berated himself for his utter lack of any cool.

“Yeah.” Lex’s eyes held Clark’s for another minute, before they slid suddenly away, something cold rising behind the grey as the warmth of his hand evaporated from Clark’s and he rearranged himself back at a neutral distance from Clark, as if he’d never left. Maybe he hadn’t, Clark thought with a touch of panic, maybe he’d just gone and imagined that whole little bout of intimacy – it was probably more likely that he was hallucinating than that Lex had just held his hand and poured his heart out to Clark with little to no provocation. Probably.

“Well, Clark,” Lex suddenly clapped the table, making to stand up, “I think we’d best be off.”

“Oh, uh…” Clark stumbled over his words, glancing around. He still couldn’t quite believe that he’d stood on an actual stage, and actually taken his clothes off, in front of actual people – and that it had all been pretty much unnecessary. Fate was, Clark groused silently, a real jerk.

“Unless, of course,” Lex drawled as he stood slowly, “you wanted to go back onstage and give us an encore…”

“Don’t even…” Clark jabbed a warning finger in Lex’s direction as he followed suit.

“I know I’d pay handsomely to see return of _The Farmboy_ …”

“You know what? The Farmboy is about three seconds away from kicking your ass…”

“Ooh! You know, I’d probably pay money for that too.”

“Shut up,” Clark managed to sputter through a truly ferocious blush. His mind wasn’t exactly racing, more _careening_ , tumbling and tripping over strange thoughts and feelings – not new, more… _uncovered_. He tried, with moderate success, not to actually trip over anything, as Lex led him smoothly through the confusing, spectral forms of waiters and dancers and customers.

This teasing that Lex was doing, it wasn’t _new_ in general…but this _specific_ teasing, this…this was…was it flirting? Was _flirting_ really the right word? Clark honestly couldn’t be sure, but he got the feeling that that’s what it was. Had it always been that way? When had it started to be this way?

It was a testimony to Clark’s jumbled state of mind that he piped up suddenly and without any preamble, “You know you’re…you’re really useful, Lex.”

“Oh! _Useful_. Well, that’s something, I suppose,” Lex scoffed exaggeratedly, a grin spreading across his face as he waved gracefully at the imposing security men blocking their path, who quickly melted away into the shadows at the motion.

“Seriously!” Clark punched Lex’s shoulder lightly, feeling an old comfortable grin spreading across his face. “You always swoop in and save the day at the last minute. You _always_ have. You’ve always been there for me.”

“Well, not always.” Lex’s expression darkened like a fleet of storm clouds flowing across a field.

Clark felt his own cheer slipping, but argued back “No, maybe not _always_ but…forget about that. _I’m_ the king of not being there when I’m needed, and I don’t need any competition for my crown.”

“Oh, Clark,” Lex was laughing again, and Clark was startled by how violent his mind’s desire to label it is as ‘beautiful’ was. “You say that like you’re being serious, but you have _literally_ saved my life on multiple occasions. You’ve saved about half of the people in Smallville’s lives at this point, and probably a good chunk of Metropolis to boot, if I know you.”

“Well, you do know me, so I guess you must be right.” Clark caught the little moment of surprise where Lex almost froze, vulnerability cracking through in his soft smile, before fading into something quiet and pleased. Clark thought he felt an answering crack somewhere deep inside - something like that strange pull he’d felt that had made him dive back under the closing gates of the LutherCorp plant to save Lex from Earl and his obsession with Level Three; like that cold, prickling, unnamable stabbing sensation when he’d seen Lex with Helen; like the spinning, flooding rush of relief at turning around to find Lex standing whole, returned from his island hell and the grip of death, looking characteristically out of place and yet utterly at home in Clark’s driveway.

God, what _was_ all this? Clark struggled to hold back the tidal wave of feelings that were suddenly, alarmingly bursting free inside of him, apropos of nothing as far as he could tell, and unstoppable even to someone of his immeasurable strength. Maybe it was the goddammed booty shorts (of which still consisted the sum total of his outfit) that were messing with his brain and making his emotions go haywire.

Or maybe this shock to your system is allowing you to see things you’d been too dumb to see before, knucklehead, argued a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Chloe’s when she was trying to convince him not to be an idiot.

They were already cutting through a darkened, empty back room of the club to Lex’s waiting limo as Clark realized with a start, “Oh, uh, Chloe and Lois –”

“I already sent them on home, told them I’d get you back safely. I hope you don’t mind…” Lex trailed off, looking honestly worried that Clark _might_ mind, and Clark felt a twinge in his chest that he’d let things get this bad between them. Because honestly, no matter how much he, and his parents, and his friends, and the majority of Smallville would be happy to blame Lex for anything and everything, including his and Clark’s deteriorating relationship, Clark knew the truth. Relationships were a two-way street, and how much could Lex be blamed for getting frustrated by the eternal roadblocks to All Things Clark?

“No, of course I don’t mind, Lex…” Clark paused, reaching out to lay a hand on Lex’s shoulder, hoping that that would help communicate what he was feeling (whatever that was, Clark wasn’t honestly sure). “ _Thank you_.” He tried to put as much depth of emotion into the two little, inadequate words as he could, locking eyes with Lex once again. How many times had they looked at each other like this, the same, but so very different? Before, with walls between them. On Lex’s side, sure, but the stronger, older, taller and better protected barriers lay with Clark. Between what Clark saw as Lex’s resplendent, cultured world and his own bizarre and confusing secret.

Well, Clark thought with just a touch of hysteria, as a slight breeze sent goosebumps rising across his exposed body, there’s nothing between us anymore. Well, nothing but a few years of built-up tension, the sexual nature of which was beginning to occur to Clark – or less _occur_ and more _slam_ into Clark like a very, very, very hot steam engine.

‘What the hell’ was probably the last thought Clark had before what he did next, though if pressed for details afterwards, he couldn’t have promised it wasn’t ‘why not’ or ‘finally.’

What he absolutely did know, and would never forget no matter what trauma or Kryptonian meddling his brain endured in the future, was that the next thing he did after having some sort of revelatory moment, was grab Lex by the lapels of his ridiculous, overpriced coat, slam him none-too-gently against the back wall of the club, and plant a serious, wet, and honestly rather clumsy kiss on Lex’s mouth.

As Lex froze completely under the barrage of Clark’s ungainly and quite definitely naked limbs, reality set in (or rather, crash landed with a hideous scream of WHAT THE HELL DUDE) to Clark’s conscious mind, and he found himself pulling back like he’d tried to lip lock with a statue carved from meteor rock. Which would, Clark imagined, honestly be a whole lot better than dealing with whatever _that_ look on Lex’s face meant.

“I…am…SO sorry. I…am…uh…” Clark’s mouth began to sputter out words as he backed up, but he had truly no clue how he was going to talk his way out of this one. For the second time that night, he began to ponder the actually-just-dig-a-hole-to-the-Earth’s-core-right-now option.

“No. No!” Lex threw his hands up in the air, his eyes almost comically wide, “No!”

“No! Right, got it, I’m so so so sorry…” Clark tried to move away but the space they were in seemed suddenly claustrophobic, and he couldn’t get out, he couldn’t get away –

“No! Not _no_.” Lex’s hands continued to wave about nonsensically, and Clark wondered if Lex was going just a little crazy. Jeez, the kiss hadn’t been _that_ bad, had it? He could use a bit of practice, sure, but…wait.

Clark paused in his desperate shuffle to escape the confining space. “ _Not_ no?”

“Yes! No. No, yes. I…I…”

“Huh. Speechless is a good look on you, Lex,” Clark found himself joking somehow, despite the still building, spiraling panic of _what had he done what was Lex going to do oh my god what had he DONE_.

“You! You. Just. Shut up,” Lex mumbled before making a decisive sort of movement and grabbing Clark’s neck to haul him forward into another, also awkward, but still pretty fantastic kiss.

“Oh!” Clark gasped as he started to figure out what exactly “not no” entailed. A bit of tongue, it turned out, which was a pleasant surprise. Clark almost forgot that he had been busy working himself into a state of utter terror and eternal social awkwardness.

Lex pulled away suddenly, releasing his death grip on Clark’s neck, a grip that probably would have been rather more uncomfortable if Clark wasn’t as, well, invulnerable as he was.

“Where the _hell_ did that come from?” Lex demanded to know, his face redder than Clark had ever seen it as he gestured vaguely up and down, presumably indicating that ‘that’ was the kiss.

“Where the hell did _that_ come from?” Clark countered, mirroring Lex’s motion.

“You first.”

“Why?”

“Because a) _you_ kissed _me_ , and b) you’re still wearing nothing more than glittery shorts which I think puts me firmly in charge of all things, ever.”

“Fair enough,” Clark sighed. “To be honest, I think, uh, I think it might actually have something to do with the outfit. It’s giving me some kind of crazy confidence. I kind of get why Lois and Chloe like to have such diving necklines…it can be kind of, uh, weirdly empowering to have people watch you like that… _want_ you, like that.”

“Oh. Okay. So this was…” Lex trailed off, making a vague, spinning gesture with his hands as he stared intensely at Clark, clearly waiting for something, some response.

“I…I don’t know…it was…” Clark fumbled for words for a minute before, once again, something akin to insanity took violent possession of his body, and he found himself pressing Lex up against a probably fairly unsanitary wall in the back room of the strip joint, hands wandering a bit under the millionaire’s coat because hey, _his_ body wasn’t on display for all the world to see, and Clark was curious. Very curious.

Clark reared back slightly as frustration at his inability to communicate, or even identify, what he was feeling took hold. “I don’t _know_ what it is, Lex, I don’t know how to say it - _you’re_ the one with the…the, silver tongue, or whatever.”

Lex’s expression, still vaguely shocked from his second unexpected kissing session of the night, morphed into a more familiar smirk, “silver tongued, hmm?”

“Oh, god, I didn’t mean…stop it!” Clark shoved playfully at Lex, who was now full-on leering at him.

“Fine, fine,” Lex threw up his hands in exaggerated defeat, “so…what do you want to do, then?”

“We should…” Clark steeled himself before plowing forward, only slightly hesitant as he hooked a thumb towards the exit. “We should go make out in the back of your limousine.”

“Yes. OK. Great. Let’s…let’s go do that. Right now.” Lex’s eyes had gone wide again, and when he almost stumbled over thin air in his rush to grab Clark’s elbow and tow him towards the door, it occurred to Clark that Lex might be just as nervous as he was about the dizzying turn their relationship had just took.

The thought filled him with sudden confidence, and he slowed his walk, taking Lex’s hand and twining their fingers together.

“So…do you think I need to get some clothes?” Clark tried to load his words with as much entendre as possible, so it was clear that the answer was _no_.

“Hmmm…ahhh…no? Unless you wanted…”

“No, no, I’m good.”

“Alright,” Lex murmured as he released Clark’s hand to slip an arm slowly around his back, to curl around his waist. His fingers settled lightly about Clark’s hipbone, and yes, _there_ it was, that smug, suggestive curve of his lips that made Clark want to sock Lex one in the jaw a little, but mostly just stoked a fire behind Clark’s eyes that whispered for him to do crazy things like slide his fingers under Lex’s collar or press a kiss to the tiny scar bisecting his upper lip.

Seized with the sudden realization that he could now, actually, and without immediate awful consequences, do exactly those things, Clark had what felt like a minor cardiac event.

He could…with Lex…with LEX he could…

It was a good thing Lex had a pretty firm grip around his waist, because at that moment, it might have been the only thing tethering Clark to reality.

Lex’s eyebrows shot up as he took notice of Clark’s suddenly unstable gait.

“Are you ok? Do we need to talk about this?”

“Uh…no. No, let’s not, I mean…we’ve been talking for years, and it’s never seemed to do us much good.”

“Yeah,” Lex murmured softly, his eyes meeting Clark’s with a deep sort of sadness.

Clark looked away as they reached the limo and slid inside. Clark tried to make himself comfortable, but he’d always felt out of place among luxurious displays of Lex’s wealth like this, and besides, his bare skin was sticking rather uncomfortably to the leather seats.

He wasn’t sure he could blame the booty shorts, however, for the attack of honesty he suddenly felt coming on, but he soon found himself beginning to babble. “There’s a lot I could tell you Lex, _should_ tell you, I mean, you know that, you’ve always known that I’ve been keeping secrets…”

For a moment Lex’s whole face lit up with a vaguely menacing passion, but it faded abruptly as he suddenly dived forward to press his hand against Clark’s mouth, preventing him from saying anything more.

“Stop,” Lex closed his eyes and bowed his head, keeping his fingers pressed against Clark’s lips. “I don’t want…no, I _do_ want to know, but I absolutely _don’t_ want to know _now_ because…because I want this to be about…us. Not about my obsessions or your…”

“My lies,” Clark finished softly, as he gently tugged Lex’s hand from his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to his palm.

“Yes. Maybe…maybe tonight can be a night of honesty. No secrets. No hiding.”

“No hiding, I like that.” Clark glanced down at his naked torso, before darting a look back up at Lex. “Well, I think I’m already ahead of the game on that. Which makes it…” Clark let his hand meander down Lex’s chest, “…your turn.”

“Oh, well, in that case, you should know, I play to win,” Lex grinned as he peeled the heavy, dark coat off his shoulders.

“Well, in that case, _you_ should know,” Clark’s hands slid back up to tug meaningfully at the knot of Lex’s tie, “so do I.”


End file.
